“I can fight twice as well, if——”
Poor little Caroline couldn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded through her tears.
“Good-bye,” said Wilfred, “you will write to me about helping me to fight twice as well, won’t you. You know what I mean?”
Caroline nodded again.
“I wouldn’t mind if you telegraphed me that you would.”
What might have happened further will never be determined, for at this juncture Mrs. Varney came back with an old faded blanket tied in a roll. She handed it to the boy without speaking. Wilfred threw it over his shoulder, and kissed his mother hurriedly.
“You won’t mind much, will you, mother. I will soon be back. Orderly!” he cried.
“Sir.”
“I am ready,” said Wilfred.
He threw one long, meaning look at Caroline, and followed the soldier out of the door and across the hall. The opening and closing of an outside door was heard, and then all was still. Mrs. Varney held her hand to her heart, and long, shuddering breaths came from her. He might soon be back, but how. She knew all about the famous injunction of the Spartan woman, “With your shield or on it,” but somehow she had had no idea of the full significance until it came to her last boy, and for a moment she was forgetful of poor, little Caroline until she saw the girl wavering toward the door, and there was no disguise about the real tears in her eyes now.